


Learning Curve

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Bunker Fic, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean finally finds the courage to kiss Castiel, he doesn't get <i>quite</i> the response he'd hoped for.  Fortunately for them both, Cas is an eager student once he gets a taste of the pleasures of the flesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [This piece of art](http://devilishred.tumblr.com/post/71162299945/thelittleskribbler-a-piece-i-did-like-ages) spawned a conversation with a friend that left me wanting to write a series of stories about Castiel's first time with various sexual experiences. This story is the end result.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First kiss(es)

Dean has been thinking about this moment for months.  Maybe even years.  Castiel stopped by his room to discuss something he found in his research and with that discussion out of the way, they’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in comfortable silence on the edge of Dean’s bed.  Before Cas has a chance to decide they’re finished and leave - or Dean has a chance to chicken out for the umpteenth time - Dean turns to him.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” Dean says quietly as he reaches up to cup Castiel’s jaw.  Castiel's brow draws in the endearingly confused way that it does, but he doesn’t have time to say anything before Dean presses a gentle kiss to his lips. He draws a sharp, surprised breath, his body going rigid when Dean kisses him again.

When Dean pulls away, he finds Castiel blushing and looking no less confused.  His eyes are open wide as he reaches up to touch his lips and suddenly Dean feels as though he’s crossed some line he never saw.  He brushes the pad of his thumb over Castiel’s cheek and swallows down his disappointment before he pulls his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters hoarsely, shifting his body away when he feels the heat of an embarrassed blush coloring his own cheeks.  He’s half a second from standing up and walking out of his own bedroom in mortification when Castiel’s warm fingers wrap around his forearm.

“Don’t apologize,” Castiel says, pulling Dean’s hand back to his hot cheek.  When Dean gathers the courage to look at him again, he ducks his head and adds, “It was pleasant.”

“It was,” Dean agrees as he traces his fingertips down the curve of Castiel’s jaw to his chin; he lifts Castiel’s face to see the pink of his cheeks and the way his nostrils flare with each quick breath.  When he leans in for another kiss, Castiel meets him halfway.  It’s another chaste press of lips that Castiel eagerly returns.

Dean strokes Castiel’s jaw, palm sliding against stubbled skin as he tilts his face to a better angle for kissing.  Castiel moves easily, his body softening as he reaches up to mirror Dean’s touch and offers another kiss of his own.  When Castiel has relaxed into the give and take of soft kisses, Dean allows his lips to linger; when Dean trails the tip of his tongue slowly over the swell of Castiel’s bottom lip, he earns another surprised hitch of breath and Cas’ fingers tightening against his face.

He pushes his luck with another swipe of his tongue over the chapped skin and Castiel’s body goes hard again, his breath coming short and tight in the space between them.  Dean moves just enough to whisper against Castiel’s lips, “We can stop if you want to.”

“I don’t want to stop,” Castiel answers breathlessly almost before the whole offer is out.  His hand trembles as he strokes Dean’s face and Dean chances a look to see his eyes squeezed tightly closed in concentration.  “But, I don’t know what I’m supposed to  _do_.”

The answer surprises Dean, and he pulls away; tracing the pad of his thumb over Castiel’s cheekbone until Cas finally looks at him.  The spark of heat in Castiel’s blue eyes is the most powerful aphrodisiac Dean has ever encountered and he tries to ignore the way it makes his heart pound and the blood rush to his cock.  He doesn’t miss the way his rough voice makes Castiel shift and clear his throat reflexively when he says, “You’re supposed to.. relax and let me make you feel good.”

“Oh,” Castiel says with an almost imperceptible nod.  He bites his lips together as his gaze settles on Dean’s and he nods again as though to himself.  He sounds distracted when he says, “I see.”

Dean chuckles and lets his hand slide to the side of Castiel’s neck, curling protectively against the warm skin as he tilts his head and leans in for another kiss.  Cas is a quick learner, tilting his head as their lips press together again with less precision.  Dean’s kisses fall on the corners of Castiel’s mouth, two on each side before he’s brave enough to tease at Castiel’s lower lip with the tip of his tongue again.

Castiel rewards his boldness with slowly parted lips until the tips of their tongues touch for the first time.  Dean pushes forward, fingertips tracing gentle circles on the back of Castiel’s neck as he savors the taste of peppermint on his lips.  Castiel catches on quickly, growing more bold himself as he sighs with pleasure and kisses back, his hand dropping from Dean’s face to his t-shirt, fingers tangling in the material as he traces over the curve of Dean’s lip and the sharp line of his teeth with tentative swipes of tongue.

When Castiel pushes forward, Dean relaxes under the onslaught of too-wet and too-rough kisses while he finds his balance.  He tugs at Dean’s shirt, pulling him closer as he moans softly at the wet slide of tongues and the occasional bump of teeth when he gets overzealous.  Dean holds on, one hand on Castiel’s jaw and the other on his shoulder to steady him, offering guidance in the form of kisses of his own and soft sounds of pleasure from deep in his chest when Cas gets it right.

His cock aches with Castiel’s closeness and the kisses that turn to wet presses of lips and swallowed growls.  Castiel breaks away first, shivering and breathing shallow and ragged as he pulls at Dean’s shirt.  His voice is raw when he says, “Is it all right if we stop now, Dean?”

Dean’s heart sinks to his stomach and he swallows hard, licking the peppermint taste of Castiel’s kisses off his lips as he opens his eyes.  Cas is watching him, brow drawn with worry over the dark heat in his eyes and cheeks flushed bright.  Dean smiles and strokes his jaw before he answers, “Yeah, Cas, it’s all right.”

When relief floods Castiel’s features like a visible sigh, Dean leans forward to kiss his nose.  He struggles to even out his breathing before he asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, still breathless and clinging to Dean like a drowning man as he hastens to add, “It feels good.  It does.  I just..”

The flush on Castiel’s cheeks spreads across the top of his ears as his voice falters.  He drops his gaze away and shifts again, his breath hitching when he moves.  In an instant Dean understands.  He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Castiel’s, stroking the back of his neck gently.

“I don’t think I’m ready for whatever comes next,” Castiel finally finishes, his voice unsteady even as he begins to relax under Dean’s fingertips.  His grip on Dean’s shirt loosens little by little as he starts to catch his breath.

“It’s okay,” Dean says with a smile, “We’ve got all the time we need.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s two weeks before Castiel ventures back into Dean’s bedroom; late one night when Dean is sure everyone else is asleep, there’s a soft knock at his door.  He drops his book onto his bare chest before he calls an equally soft, “Come in.”

As the door opens slowly, Castiel slips into the room, his t-shirt and pajama pants as disheveled as his hair.  When he sees Dean sprawled in the middle of the bed in only his underwear, his mouth drops open in surprise.  He’s already mid-apology on his way back out the door before Dean convinces him that no, he’s not interrupting anything and yes, it’s fine if he stays.  Once he’s sure he’s welcome, Castiel approaches the bed with the single-minded intensity he used to reserve for battle.

“I was thinking about kissing you,” he says matter-of-factly as he perches on the edge of the bed, leaving Dean scrambling for a non-gibberish response.

“Oh?” He manages, pushing himself into a sitting position and dropping the book on the nightstand.  Castiel nods slowly, his gaze lingering on Dean’s lips before he makes eye contact again.  Dean takes a deep breath and licks his lips, willing his body to cooperate.  His voice, traitor that it is, cracks when he asks, “What were you thinking about it?”

Castiel swallows audibly, his gaze falling to Dean’s lips again, but he doesn’t answer.  Instead he leans forward, his breath whooshing out in a warm sigh just ahead of a soft, chaste kiss.  Dean’s body reacts instantly, his heart thundering almost painfully against his breastbone as he reaches up to touch Castiel’s face.  Before he has a chance to speak, Castiel kisses him again; his lips linger just the way Dean’s did the first night they kissed, and just before he teases his tongue against the swell of Dean’s lower lip.

“Wait, Cas,” Dean whispers, pulling back as he tries to maintain some semblance of composure.  He’s thought about how he’d handle this moment should it ever come, but all his plans fly out the window when he sees Castiel watching him with those too-blue eyes, lips parted on shallow breaths.  “Are we..  are we just kissing?”  He pauses, struggling to gather his wits even as his cock hardens under the flimsy cover of his underwear and adding quickly, “Kissing is good.  Kissing you is _great_..  it would just help if I knew.”

He trails a fingertip lightly under the cut of Castiel’s jaw, tracing the line of the bone as indecision clouds Castiel’s face.  After a long moment, he wets his lips and asks, “What if I don’t know yet?”

“That’s okay,” Dean answers, an unfamiliar flutter in the pit of his stomach as he leans forward for another kiss.  With no shirt to hold onto, Castiel’s fingers curl against Dean’s side, blunt nails scratching against his skin as the two men exchange kisses.  The gentle press of lips gives way to deep kisses, exploring the contours of one another’s mouths; each of Castiel’s ill-timed panted breaths and soft moans sending the butterflies in Dean’s stomach into a frenzy.

When Castiel starts to lean against him, Dean relaxes and lets himself be pushed to the bed.  He retreats slowly, kissing Castiel as hard as he is able, tongue darting out in invitation.  As soon as Cas takes the bait, Dean nips the tip of his tongue.  The surprised growl and fiercely returned kiss are more than worth the awkward, tangled heap they land in when Castiel loses his balance.  The unmistakable feeling of an erection pressed against his thigh sends Dean’s heart hammering  in his chest.

He opens his eyes when Castiel pulls away, fighting to steady his own breathing as the man stretched out against his body pants raggedly.  The unabashed hunger in Castiel’s eyes makes Dean a little dizzy, and a lot glad he’s already lying.  He waits, stroking down Castiel’s side over the top of his t-shirt before carefully slipping his fingers beneath.  Castiel’s breath catches sharply as Dean’s fingertips dance over his sweaty skin.

“Still kissing?”  Dean asks thickly, dragging his fingertips up Castiel’s side until he shivers.

Castiel’s eyelids flutter closed as he dips to press another kiss to Dean’s lips in answer.  His muscles twitch and jump under Dean’s touch, accompanied by pleased sighs and barely audible groans.  When he finally relaxes, Dean begins to shift slowly.  He takes his time, interspersing the wet slide of tongues and the slick drag of skin with sharp nips at Castiel’s lips, feeling his body soften as they switch positions.  Dean’s kisses trail down Castiel’s chin and to his throat, then wet and open-mouthed up the underside of his jaw until he can whisper in Castiel’s ear.  

“We can kiss all night if you want to, Cas.”  He palms the curve of Castiel’s ribs, his hand dragging on damp skin as he strokes slowly downward. He pauses, squeezing the soft flesh at the top of Castiel’s pajamas before he finishes the thought:  “Or I can show you something that feels even better.”

Dean’s not expecting the full-voiced _whimper_ he gets in response and he immediately worries that he’s pushed too hard.  He’s already backing away, ready to apologize when Castiel’s fingers splay across the back of his head to hold him close.  Castiel’s lips find the curve of Dean’s ear, pressing an awkward kiss before he answers a husky, “I want you to show me.”

Castiel’s rough voice is like a sucker punch, sending a shiver through Dean as he struggles to stop his hands from shaking at the prospect. In one smooth motion, he slips his hand inside Castiel’s loose flannel pants, scratching his nails over the sensitive flesh beneath.  The half-gasp, half-moan against Dean’s shoulder when he wraps a loose fist around Castiel’s cock is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything except hearing it again.

Dean turns his head to find Castiel’s lips, swollen and wet, for a kiss as he begins to stroke his cock and Cas doesn’t disappoint.  As their mouths crash together, Dean swallows a litany of moans and whimpers and hitched breaths, his practiced fingers sliding easily on precome slick skin.  Castiel’s fingers curl against the back of Dean’s head, pulling the inelegant and sloppy kiss deeper even as he shoves frantically at the waistband of his pants with his free hand.  

He breaks away from the kiss with a frustrated growl and if Dean’s nerve endings weren’t misfiring from the sheer hotness of Castiel’s desperation, he’d probably laugh.  When he’s finally pushed his pajamas out of the way enough to free his cock and Dean’s hand from the confines of fabric, Castiel arches triumphantly, pushing his cock into the loose grip.  His lips find Dean’s throat, vibrating moans and growls as he sucks and bites and all Dean can do is close his eyes and hope for the best.

His cock aches, the sensitive head rubbing unmercifully against the inside of his underwear as he pulls his fist over the head of Castiel’s and twists loosely before stroking downward again.  Castiel thrusts erratically, his hips twisting as he grabs at Dean’s sweaty side and claws the back of his neck.  Dean presses his nose to Castiel’s jaw when he finally bites too hard, tilting his head away.  He strokes without mercy, his slowly tightening fist moving from the root to the tip of Castiel’s cock sure and quick and with swipe of his thumb over Castiel’s leaking slit.

“Dean.. _wait_.. I..” Castiel groans as he throws his head back grabs for the blanket, fingers twisting in the fabric.  His muscles coil as he curls in on himself, his breath coming in broken, half-growled little gasps.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Dean answers in a raw whisper as Cas’ cock stiffens in his hand.  He moves quickly, covering Castiel’s mouth with his own as he slows his strokes and tightens his fist, pulling the orgasm from Castiel’s shivering body.  He’s almost successful in muffling Castiel’s cry of pleasure as Cas rolls his hips up sharply, fucking into Dean’s fist, thick come coating his fingers and splashing off Castiel’s stomach.

“Dean,” Castiel moans again when he pulls away from the kiss, his cock twitching thick and heavy in Dean’s fingers as his voice drops to a raspy whisper, “Dean, _Dean_.”

“I’m here,” Dean says with throaty chuckle, pressing gentle kisses to Castiel’s throat and his clenched jaw as he continues to stroke his cock.  The skin is slick and softening under his touch as he lets his kisses trail across Castiel’s muscular shoulder and back to his neck again.  He can feel Castiel’s heartbeat pounding through his body, his chest tight; when Dean whispers a soft “breathe, Cas”, the response is immediate gasped breaths like a fish who’s found himself on dry land.

Dean tries to clear the haze from his head, dropping his hand to splay across Castiel’s wet belly just to feel the muscles twitch and roll.  The ache in the pit of his stomach that wraps around his tailbone and squeezes like a fist when he lowers himself to rest against Castiel’s side is almost unbearable, but he does his best to ignore it as he props himself up on one elbow, the fingertips of his other hand still tracing through sticky come on Castiel’s stomach.

Cas’ eyes are glassy and half-closed as he stares at the ceiling.  Dean waits, pressed against his side with one leg thrown over his and watches.  When Castiel finally blinks slowly and turns his head, the vision takes Dean’s breath away.  His lips are puffy from biting kisses, deep pink to match the flush on his cheeks and across his nose.  His blue eyes are wide again, his gaze intense when it meets Dean’s; a look all the more sexy when coupled with his sweaty, dark hair standing at odd angles.

Dean swallows reflexively and licks his lips before he smiles.  Castiel’s palm comes to rest gently and still quivering against Dean’s cheek; a sweet caress before he leans up to press an equally sweet kiss.  His lips linger, nuzzling against Dean’s and accompanied by little pleased sounds that make Dean smile all over again.

“Good?”  he says quietly.  Castiel’s answer is a soft “mmhmm” and a smile.  

When Cas has finally caught his breath and stopped shivering, Dean carefully untangles himself and rolls over onto his back to stare at the ceiling.  The aching hardness of his cock has subsided and he can finally breathe without feeling like he’s going to spontaneously combust.  He’s just finished mentally congratulating himself on a job well-done when Castiel cuts his celebration short with a gravelly, “I want to show you what I’ve learned.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the obscene levels of fluff and lack of porn in this chapter, I can't help myself sometimes.

Once upon a time, not so very long ago, Dean Winchester lived for hunting.  As much as he loved the security of the bunker, he always felt a restless itch in the recesses of his mind.  He always felt as though he was _born_ with a nagging sense of uselessness that he could never shake unless he was saving people and hunting things.    After thirty years of restlessness, three weeks of being on the road with Sam, Castiel, and this secret was excruciating.

Dean has barely had time to get comfortable on their first night back home when he hears the tentative knock on his bedroom door.  He can’t help the excited flutter in his chest - or the smile on his face - when he answers it with a quiet, “Come in, Cas.”

He’s surprised to see Castiel wearing only a towel wrapped low around his hips, but after three weeks of keeping his hands to himself, Dean’s not about to argue.  In fact, he’s so pleased to see so much of Cas that he doesn’t even complain about the water still clinging to his body and dripping from his hair when he drops the towel and crawls under the covers.

“I missed you,” Dean murmurs as he wraps his arm around Castiel’s shoulders.  Cas is warm and damp as he plasters himself against Dean’s side and presses a lingering kiss to Dean’s lips.  He pulls away slowly with a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips and lets his hand drop naturally in the center of Dean’s chest.

“You last saw me an hour ago,” Castiel says.  He almost manages to keep a straight face, but just as Dean’s winding up to explain how it’s possible to miss more than physical proximity, Castiel grins.  As though he’s letting Dean in on a secret, he adds, “That was a joke.”

“I was trying to be romantic,” Dean says with an affected sigh.

By way of apology, Castiel kisses Dean’s chin as his hand slides up to cup his jaw.  Dean turns his face to the tender touch and closes his eyes to enjoy the flurry of kisses that follow.  Castiel’s lips press again and again; the corners of Dean’s mouth, across his cheekbone, to his temple, and down his nose.  His body softens as Dean strokes fingertips over the thick muscles of his back and with an almost inaudible sigh, he kisses Dean full on the lips again.

“I missed you, too,” he confesses, smiling against Dean’s lips and dropping another kiss as his palm slides to Dean’s neck, the pad of his thumb tracing the line of Dean’s jaw.  It’s sweet and somehow new and exciting all over again when the tip of Castiel’s tongue finally darts out to taste Dean’s lips.  Dean lets out a slow breath and relaxes, his hand dropping to the small of Castiel’s back, tracing small circles against the damp skin.

For the first time since their first kiss, there’s no urgency to the wet slide of their lips.  Castiel holds Dean carefully, as though he might break, dipping in for kiss after lazy kiss.  Dean’s breath goes ragged between the kisses as he reaches up to stroke Castiel’s cheek gently.  When Cas finally breaks away from Dean’s lips, he lifts his head and looks down, the pad of his thumb still tracing the angles of Dean’s face.

“Why do we keep this a secret from Sam?”

The softly voiced question catches Dean by surprise, and it takes his mind a minute to catch the actual words.  Dean studies Castiel’s face for a long moment, struggling to put words to his reason.  He sees no anger or hurt in Castiel’s peaceful features, only the patience of a former angel.

“It’s not because I’m afraid or ashamed,” Dean says, working it out for himself as he speaks, “Sam would be fine with it.”

Castiel nods slowly, as though he’d come to the same conclusion, but doesn’t speak.  In what should be the most uncomfortable silence of Dean’s life, he feels no need to rush to words.  He slides his palm against Castiel’s cheek, fingers slipping into his still-wet hair as he leans up for another kiss, one that Castiel returns eagerly.  The give and take feels natural, as does the way Castiel’s thigh slips over the top of Dean’s when he pushes closer.

Dean holds Castiel’s lips to his own, pressing the kiss deeper.  He kisses Castiel hard, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.  When he finally breaks away, he does so slowly, memorizing the taste of Castiel’s kisses and the feel of his constantly chapped lips.  Castiel opens his eyes and draws a deep breath, gaze flicking across Dean’s face.

“This is _ours_ ,” Dean whispers finally.  “For now.  We’ll tell Sam soon if you want; but for now, I like having a secret with you.”

Castiel smiles and ducks his head, pressing the bridge of his nose against Dean’s jaw; Dean takes advantage of the opportunity to kiss Castiel’s forehead.  Before he has a chance to say anything else, Castiel curls against his side, shifting until they’re both comfortable with his head on Dean’s shoulder.  His palm once more finds its way over Dean’s heart as Dean strokes up and down his spine with lazy fingertips.

“Is it okay if I just lie here with you for a while, Dean?”

Dean chuckles softly at the sleepy thickness in Castiel’s voice and traces a fingertip around the curve of his ear.  He suddenly wonders how long Cas has waited to find out why they were keeping secrets from Sam, but he doesn’t ask.  Instead, he shifts until he can slot his fingers between Castiel’s and answers, “You can stay here as long as you want, Cas.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy morning blowjob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Behind first kisses, first blowjobs are my favorite thing._

In Dean’s estimation, the one real perk of Sam staying in Kansas to hold down the fort while he and Castiel try to figure out what’s killing model citizens in Sioux Falls, South Dakota is mornings.  Sure Sam is a better hunter than Cas will probably ever be and maybe Cas doesn’t laugh at any of Dean’s jokes; but not since he was with Lisa has he had the pleasure of waking up with his arm asleep under someone’s dead weight or the feel of someone’s warm breath on his neck.

This morning, though, Dean wakes curled against Castiel’s side with his head on Castiel’s chest, dragged kicking and screaming to consciousness by the sound of trucks passing on the highway.  It’s too early for civilized people to be awake - there’s barely any light sneaking in around the edges of the curtains - but once Dean’s eyes are open and he starts to yawn, there’s no going back to sleep.  He shifts closer as he nuzzles the side of Castiel’s neck.

“You awake, Cas?”

Castiel’s arms tighten around Dean, but the only response he gets is a muffled “mmm”, so he presses a wet kiss to the curve of Castiel’s jaw and trails the tip of his tongue down the underside.  Cas lets out a soft sigh and lifts his chin, one palm stroking deliberately down Dean’s back.  Dean takes it as invitation to kiss Castiel’s neck, accepting with gentle presses of lips interspersed with more wet kisses and nibbles until Cas starts to squirm.

Dean is hard already, cock sliding in precome against Castiel’s hip as he moves.  He resists the urge to stay where he’s at, instead biting at the line of Castiel’s jaw until he can kiss the hollow beneath his earlobe.  After a kiss, he sucks the sensitive flesh between his teeth to nibble.  Castiel whimpers as fingers tighten against Dean’s shoulder.  After a sharply indrawn breath, he growls an unsteady, “I’m awake now.”

Dean chuckles, barely resisting the urge to make a smartass remark and instead focuses on making Castiel squirm with kisses down his neck and across his collarbone.  He kisses slowly back toward his throat, sliding downward as he does and pushing the covers as he goes.  Castiel palms the back of Dean’s head, long fingers wrapped tightly against his skull as he dips the tip of his tongue into the hollow between Cas’ collarbones.

He stretches up for a proper kiss and finds himself engulfed by the white hot _need_ that seems to roll off his lover’s lips.  Castiel’s kiss is hard and reckless, full of the pent up sleepy warmth that softens the rest of his body under the trail of Dean’s palm.  As much as he’d love to stay, biting Castiel’s rough lips and feeling his sleepy pleased hums, he’s got something better in mind.  He breaks away reluctantly, kissing open-mouthed over Castiel’s chin and down his throat and sliding ever downward.

Castiel’s breath comes in ragged gasps and Dean can feel the fine quiver of his body, feel the hardness of his cock sliding against his own body as he moves.  He forces himself to take his time, kissing across the broad expanse of Castiel’s tanned chest, tonguing over the contours of hard muscle as he shifts to slip between Castiel’s legs.

Dean palms Castiel’s bare hip as he teases the tip of his tongue around one nipple.  He circles slowly, savoring the rough feel of it hardening under his lips and the sharp gasps that each swipe of tongue brings.  Castiel arches, fingertips digging into the back of Dean’s head as Dean seals his lips around his prize and sucks hard, flicking the tip of his tongue to feel Castiel’s nipple tighten harder and harder.

“Oh, _God_ ,” Castiel finally gasps; a blasphemy learned from Dean that sounds _so_ much better falling from the lips of a former angel.  Dean growls and circles his tongue slowly around Castiel’s nipple before he pulls off quickly, leaving Cas squirming and scratching at his shoulder as he makes his way across his chest to give his other nipple the same treatment.

This time, Castiel arches eagerly, pulling Dean’s lips to his nipple and holding his breath until Dean’s lips slide away a moment later and leave him shivering with pleasure.  Castiel’s cock is rock hard against Dean’s body; every drag of skin sending Castiel’s hips twisting in search of more friction.  Dean smiles and presses a chaste kiss to the center of Castiel’s chest, looking up through his eyelashes as he slides a little further south.

Castiel is watching Dean’s every move, his wet lips parted on shallow breaths and his cheeks flushed so pink that they almost glow in the dim morning light.  His fingers tighten reflexively against Dean’s head, sweaty palm stroking at his shoulder and sliding to his neck.  Dean kisses a line down the center of Castiel’s stomach as he watches, pausing to drag his teeth over the defined edges of muscle.  When Cas wets his lips with a slow drag of tongue, it’s all Dean can do to be continue kissing patient lines back and forth across his stomach.

He pulls away to wet his lips and calm himself as the drag of the sheet against his already aching cock nearly overwhelms him and Castiel watches, eyes half-lidded and dark as he sucks his lower lip between his teeth.  Dean can see the question that draws Castiel’s brow even if Cas doesn’t know what he wants to ask yet and he presses another wet kiss just above his navel in answer.  He pauses to tease the tip of his tongue into Castiel’s bellybutton and nibble around the edge until he earns an impatient growl.

Dean chuckles and kisses down the softness of Castiel’s belly, enjoying the way Cas squirms and pulls at his hair, the way he moans when the head of his cock bumps the underside of Dean’s chin.  It’s as though the touch gives Castiel the question he was searching for; asked with the now-certain guidance of his hands.  He pushes at Dean’s shoulder and pulls at his skull, but Dean won’t be moved when he finds the first taste of precome that’s beaded on Castiel’s stomach.

It’s sharply earthy and more bitter than Dean remembers precome tasting.  He sucks at the soft flesh of Castiel’s stomach, cleaning every drop from his skin before he lets his kisses slide to the hollow inside Castiel’s hipbone.  With a pause to push the covers to the foot of the bed, Dean goes to work.  Castiel’s fingers clench and his breath hisses as Dean’s lips skate over the smooth skin of his hip, tongue tip tracing the bone.

He moves slowly, tasting traces of salty sweat and soap until his lips are pressed to the base of Castiel’s cock, nuzzling.  Castiel’s breaths turn to half-voiced moans when Dean starts to kiss, wet and open-mouthed up the side of his cock, his grip on Dean’s shoulder nearly painful.  With one trembling hand still on Castiel’s hip to hold him steady, he circles his other thumb and forefinger around the base of Castiel’s cock.

Castiel’s reaction is instant, hips jerking instinctively to the touch of Dean’s tongue along the ridge of his glans, breath held.  Dean looks up through his lashes again as his lips close around the head of Castiel’s cock, just in time to see Cas throw his head back, the long line of his throat working around a low groan of pleasure before he swallows and swallows again.  Dean is struck by the beauty of the long line of Castiel’s body and the sharp triangle of his chin, almost forgetting what he was doing as he watches.

The twitch of Castiel’s cock and the sharp flavor of freshly leaked precome pulls him back to the task at hand as he closes his eyes and starts to slide slowly down, down, down; no suction, only warmth.  Each millimeter he moves draws a new gasp or moan from Castiel, a symphony of pleasure that’s sharply punctuated with breathy “oh”s and “ah”s as he moves excruciatingly slowly. Dean’s stomach tightens, flipping with excitement as he slides slowly back up Castiel’s shaft until he’s only holding the head in his mouth once more.

He starts to suck in earnest, tongue pressing against the underside of Castiel’s cock as he bobs up and down, still moving slowly, still drawing the sexiest moans and growls and half-whimpers he’s ever heard.  Castiel’s hands are as shaky as his voice, trembling violently as he scrabbles at the back of Dean’s head, scratches blunt nails against the back of his neck.  Dean knows he won’t last long at this rate, so he pushes down until the head of Castiel’s cock presses against his throat and swallows, teasing.

“Fuck,” Castiel whispers; something else he learned from his time in Dean’s bed.  His hips buck, twisting as he tries to pull Dean down further, but he’s already on his way back up, cheeks hollowed.  When he finds his shaky voice, he sounds broken, a whiskey rough and half-moaned, “That feels..  it’s so _good_.” 

Dean finds his own hips rolling, dragging his cock against the roughness of the motel sheet in desperate need of friction as his breath comes short and shallow through his nose.  Castiel’s hands tighten on his head, holding and stroking and scratching in turn as Dean opens his eyes again to watch.  He bobs his head, twisting to press his tongue everywhere he can and paying special attention to the sensitive nerve hotspot just below Castiel’s cockhead.

Castiel’s head is still tilted back, his chest heaving with every shivering breath, an absolute vision of ecstasy.  As Dean continues to rut against the bed, cock hardening as he finds it more and more difficult to breathe around Castiel’s cock, pulling off for half a second to gulp air before sliding back down again, Cas raises his head.  His eyes are squeezed tightly closed, teeth clenched against hissing breaths.  Dean watches even as he grabs both Castiel’s hips plunging down his cock one last time and twisting his head while he sucks as hard as is humanly possible.

“Dean!” Castiel’s half-shout is all the warning he gets.  Dean closes his eyes as Castiel’s cock jerks against his tongue, trying to swallow his mouthful of precome and spit before the flood of come.  He’s only half-successful, sucking and swallowing with each new pulse of thick, tangy liquid on the back of his tongue.  He’s so busy trying to swallow and struggling to hold Castiel’s twisting body to the bed that his own orgasm is a surprise.

Dean’s stomach clenches and he grinds into the bed as the fire that’s built in the middle of him releases.  When he moans around Castiel’s cock, it sends Cas into a new frenzy of moans and shivers.  Dean can feel the shivers rolling down his own spine, hear the blood rushing through his ears as he pulls slowly off Castiel’s cock and pants, trying to get enough air to clear the fuzzy grayness from the edges of his mind.

Castiel paws at Dean’s head, long, frantic strokes like he’s petting a dog as he half-rolls from side to side.  Dean lifts his head to watch the way Castiel’s muscles flex and quiver with each movement, grinning with pride that he’s reduced him to an incoherently groaning mess with just his mouth.  He leaves his own mess behind, crawling slowly up Castiel’s body, dropping kisses here and there while Cas protests that every press of lips is absolute torture and absolutely will not be tolerated.

“Tell me what your tattoo says,” Dean murmurs when he stops to study it.  He traces a fingertip over the letters, right to left just the way Castiel taught him.  There’s no answer, only the ragged sound of Castiel’s breath.  Dean dips his head to kiss the tattoo, still fresh and dark; he marvels at the fact that the skin feels the same as all the rest.

There’s still no answer except the quiver of Castiel’s muscles under his lips, so he tucks the question away and moves along.  When Dean reaches Castiel’s nipple again, he stops to suck and nibble, not expecting the way Castiel’s body arches and nearly knocks him over.  With this new information, he can’t help sneaking a nibble of the _other_ nipple, pleased when he gets the same reaction.

“Sensitive?” Dean asks and this time he gets a noncommittal grunt and another petting of the back of his head as a response.  He laughs and shifts his body to lie beside Castiel again, returning to kissing the side of his neck just the way all this started.  By the time his heartbeat slows and he can breathe properly again, the sun is bright enough to ensure neither of them will be going back to sleep.

Dean opens his eyes to see Castiel watching him, still looking sleepy and soft like he does in the morning with a side of sated. Dean smiles and kisses Castiel’s jaw, letting his lips linger.  He’s just about to suggest they drag their lazy asses out of bed and get breakfast when Castiel smiles and says, “Fuck off.”

“ _What_?”  Dean answers, bewildered.

“My tattoo,” Castiel explains, his voice still husky and sex-rough.  “Although it has better protection properties against angels, it’s the Enochian equivalent of ‘fuck off’.  It’s a fitting phrase for the circumstances, isn’t it?”

Dean chuckles and leans his forehead to Castiel’s temple, reaching up to tenderly palm his jaw as he answers, “I hope they get the message soon.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel takes the lead for the first time; Dean doesn't mind one bit. _Also, first time anal play._

Within a week of returning from South Dakota, Dean and Castiel have fallen into a sort of nocturnal routine that begins only after everyone else is asleep.  Cas no longer waits for an invitation to Dean’s bed, sometimes crawling in fully clothed and sometimes stripping bare before he slides under the covers.  Tonight, he opted for the latter and, as much as Dean loves taking the lead, he has to admit that a hundred and sixty pounds of lithe muscle wriggling atop his body is pretty nice.

He’d be hard pressed to recall how Castiel ended up on top of him; with the way Cas has tangled their legs for leverage while he grinds against Dean’s hip and bites at his neck, Dean will be hard pressed to recall his own name soon.  Dean’s fingers curl reflexively as he scratches blunt nails over the thick muscles of Castiel’s upper back, tracing the flexing contours.

Castiel groans and arches downward, his breath coming in shallow bursts as his wet kisses move to Dean’s shoulder and slowly back.  He bites at Dean’s earlobe then the side of his neck before his lips seal around the curve of Dean’s jaw with a whimper of pleasure as he rocks his hips in an unsteady rhythm.  His breath catches in his throat, the sort of surprised almost-squeak Dean enjoys so much when Dean scratches at the small of his back and rolls his hips up in return.

“Slow down,” Dean whispers, hands find Castiel’s hips to help slow his thrusts.  Cas growls in protest, his lips finding Dean’s for a desperate kiss.  The intensity of his kiss makes Dean’s head spin, spit-slick lips sliding against his as Castiel moans and pants and seems to only occasionally remember that they’re actually kissing.  When he lifts his head and coils to grind his hips down harder, all Dean can do is croak a broken, “or not.  _Jesus,_ Cas.”

He sucks at the long line of Castiel’s exposed throat, the vibration of every little moan and growl going straight to his already rock hard cock until he’s squirming with the electric heat that seems to have wrapped itself around his tailbone and twisted.  Dean’s fingers sink into the flesh of Castiel’s ass, digging in bruising tight against the clenching muscle as he thrusts upward.

“It’s not _enough_ ,” Castiel says impatiently, his voice frayed with need.  His gaze settles on Dean’s; his half-lidded eyes dark and his cheeks colored with the familiar pink flush.  Dean wets his lips and gives a breathless nod, unable to find enough coherence to speak.  

Instead, he pushes and pulls at his impatient lover until their legs are untangled and Cas is straddling his hips, their cocks bobbing and grinding side by side.  “Here,” he finally manages, taking Castiel’s hand and wrapping it around both their cocks, his hips arching up instinctively to the touch as he adds, “try this.”

He curls forward, unwilling to lose the press of their bodies as he squeezes their cocks together and begins to move.  Every incremental slide of his cock against Dean’s brings a fresh gasp or whimper or mewl of pleasure as he tightens and loosens his grip as though in search of the perfect amount of friction.  Positioned this way, Castiel’s thrusts are smoother.

Dean’s hands tremble as he grabs at Castiel again, one hand on his hip to steady him and the other squeezing his ass cheek.  In this new position, it’s easier for him to wrap one hand over the curve of Castiel’s ass, fingers slipping into the crack.  He moves as slowly as he can, the pit of his belly twisting with need as Castiel kisses his neck and pants half-voiced “Dean”s and hissing “yesssss”s.

Castiel’s hips jerk forward when Dean presses a fingertip to the tight pucker of his ass, a surprised groan stifled against Dean’s shoulder.  His hips stutter to a stop, but only briefly, as Dean continues a gentle press of one fingertip and then two against his tight hole.  When he moves again, his fist is wrapped almost painfully tight around their cocks, his hips rolling mercilessly.

“Fuck,” Castiel spits, the tail end of the word almost a whimper.  The sound of profanity in his voice is still new, always an unexpected thrill.  Dean presses his fingertips harder, rubbing methodic circles without trying to breach the clenching ring of muscle as he slides his other hand to squeeze Castiel’s ass cheek.  He gives up on thrusting upward, his body shivering violently as he teeters on the brink of orgasm.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas groans, his voice rising in pitch with the blasphemy-laced nonsense that follows.  Dean’s brain short circuits when Castiel’s shaking hand slides upward, squeezing and grinding their cockheads together as his lips seal over Dean’s collarbone, sucking and dragging teeth in a frenzy of moans.

Dean tips over first, cock thickening as he coats Castiel’s fingers with pulse after pulse of thick come.  He feels Castiel’s orgasm first in the jerking muscles of his ass cheek; tiny half-thrusts that Dean encourages with a tight press of his two fingertips against Castiel’s clenching hole.  It’s Dean who has to muffle a cry of pleasure as he tries to fight the overwhelming pleasure that rolls up his spine as a relieved shiver.

Castiel’s teeth sink into Dean’s shoulder, his own come spilling hot and slick over his fist and onto Dean’s stomach.  He’s still holding their cocks together, sliding his fist lazily, wet with come as he curls and presses soft kisses over the stinging bite until it’s all too much to bear. Dean struggles to catch his breath, feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen as he scrambles to pull Castiel’s hand away.

When Cas collapses on top of him, it’s like a ton of bricks, relieving Dean of any air he’d managed to breathe in.  He trails his fingertips slowly up the center of Castiel’s spine, splays his still shaky hands over Castiel’s upper back.  He can feel the thump of Cas’ heart in time with his own, an otherworldly sensation if ever there was one.  Castiel sucks ragged breaths, still squirming to grind his softened cock into the slick mess between their bodies.

Dean presses a soft kiss to Castiel’s temple, a move that only encourages him to bury his face more firmly against Dean’s neck.  Dean can’t help chuckling, thick and soft, as he curls one hand protectively over the back of Castiel’s neck and slides the other to the small of his back.  He’s starting to drift, sleepy haze pulling at the edges of his mind, safe and grounded under the dead weight of the man on top of him.

The fact that they won’t be able to stay like this all night is the best argument for telling Sam about their budding relationship and in a sleepy moment of certainty, Dean slides his hand up to press against the back of Castiel’s sweat damp head and murmurs, “We’ll tell Sam about us tomorrow, if you want to.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This was never meant to have anything resembling a plot; I don't know what happened._

Long after Castiel had returned to his own bedroom Dean had lain awake, staring at the ceiling.  Cas’ muffled “I’d like that” in response to Dean’s split-second decision had set it in stone; there was no longer any going back, if there ever had been.  In the darkness of his bedroom, alone with his thoughts, Dean struggled to put a name this thing he and Castiel were building.  He’d finally fallen asleep, still wrestling with the question.

He wakes with a nervous flutter somewhere in the vicinity of his heart, a little stutter of half-time beating occasionally when he thinks about the prospect of being able to touch Castiel whenever he wants to without the worry of giving anything away.  He rubs his eyes and rolls onto his side to stare at the empty side of his bed - the side that, if all continues to go well, will soon be home to a sleeping former Angel of the Lord every morning.

In the shower, Dean’s mind drifts - as it is wont to do - to thoughts of Castiel’s growing sexual prowess.  He closes his eyes and thinks about the untempered need in Castiel’s voice when he walks the line between begging and demanding; the way he still clutches desperately at Dean, just like the first time they kissed, clinging to whatever he can grab to keep from losing himself.

Of all the pleasures he finds with Castiel, the greatest is in his lack of inhibition.  Without the normal head full of all-too-human reasons why things that feel good should make you feel bad, Castiel is free to experience pleasure with a sort of wild abandon that makes everything better.  He doesn’t feel the need to stifle his moans or stay aware of his position; a combination that leads to Dean chasing his writhing body across the bed to kiss him quiet as he jerks him off just as often as it doesn’t.

As Dean washes off the remnants of last night’s activities, he replays them in his mind.  Castiel had surprised Dean when he crawled atop him in what he said was a move to touch more skin.  It was the first of _many_ pleasant surprises that now come flooding vividly to Dean’s mind.  He doesn’t realize his soapy fist is sliding slowly up and down the half-hardness of his cock until his knees go a little weak with the slick feeling.  He clears his throat, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment even though he’s alone and speeds through the rest of his shower.

Castiel is nowhere to be found when Dean finally emerges from the depths of the bunker to find Sam sitting at one of the long tables, enjoying a cup of coffee while he stares at his computer screen.  He looks up briefly when he hears Dean and grunts a still-sleepy “mornin’” that Dean answers with a nod.  Dean considers telling Sam now, by himself, but quickly decides that it’s better if he waits until Cas is present.

After retrieving a cup of coffee for himself, Dean drops into a chair across from Sam to flip through a magazine.  It feels as though every other second, he has to suppress the urge to spill the secret to his brother.  As the morning wears on, Dean’s trepidation turns to anticipation, a feeling that squirms in the pit of his stomach every time he thinks about being free from the secret.

By the time Castiel joins the world of the conscious, the morning quiet has given way to an afternoon of searching through the deepest recesses of the bunker for something they saw in a crudely drawn picture in a book.  Though Dean can’t help the way his breath catches at the sight of still sleep rumpled Cas standing in the doorway scratching his chest absently and licking his lips, he decides this probably isn’t the best time.

The best time doesn’t come.  Dean can feel the weight of Castiel’s gaze settle on him from time to time, but when he looks up, Cas has already looked away.  As the afternoon wears on and they find the piece of voodoo art they were searching for, Dean leaves Sam and Castiel to figuring out how they can use it and slips off to rustle up dinner.

He’s in the middle of making burgers when he feels Cas watching him again.  This time when he turns to look, Cas is still looking at him with a smile.  Dean’s heart flutters, and his breath goes shallow when he sees the way Castiel is leaned against the door frame, his body long and loose in worn jeans and a t-shirt.  His fingers twitch with the desire to cross the room and touch his lover, but he turns back to cooking instead.

Castiel starts to talk as he moves slowly into the room; something about what he and Sam just turned up and how it could possibly be applied to blah blah blah, but Dean only sort of hears him.  His heart is pounding, sending blood surging loudly through his ears as Castiel comes closer to ask whether he needs any help.  Even after moving a safe distance away, the anticipation of not having to keep secrets mingling with the desire to kiss Castiel is still almost unbearable.

Dean does hear it loud and clear, however, when Cas asks, “When are we going to talk to Sam?”

“Talk to Sam about what?”  Comes Sam’s voice from the doorway, and for a split second Dean’s heart seems to stop painfully.

Dean turns to look at his brother who has taken up Castiel’s former spot in the doorway as Sam looks back and forth between him and Cas, his face a mixture of apprehension and suspicion.  Dean moves subconsciously away from Castiel, although he’s not even remotely close to him, and looks up to see Cas watching him carefully.

“Dean?  Cas?”  Sam’s voice is closer now and when Dean turns to wash his hands, stealing a moment to compose himself, Castiel swoops in to rescue them all from the awkward silence.

“I’m Dean’s boyfriend now, Sam,” he says simply, leaving Dean choking on the air he was trying to breath and scrambling to keep from dropping the bar of soap in his suddenly shaky hands.  After all the thought he gave it last night, trying to put a name to something that seemed terribly complicated, leave it to Castiel to distill it into what it actually _is_.

Dean drops the soap and rinses his hands quickly before he turns around to face his brother and say, “Cas is my boyfriend now, Sam.”

He reaches out to slot his wet fingers between Castiel’s, squeezing Cas’ hand more to reassure himself than his _boyfriend_ as Sam looks slowly back and forth between the two of them, his brow knit as though he’s trying to piece something together.  Dean is on the verge of nervous blabbering just to fill the silence when Sam finally nods slowly.

“That makes sense,” he says finally, a smile spreading across his face.

“It does?”  Dean asks, looking at Castiel who looks a little bewildered but a lot happy.

“Yeah,” Sam says, chuckling and shrugging his wide shoulders.  “I mean, you’ve both seemed a lot happier lately even though you’ve been avoiding being within ten feet of one another like the plague.. so, yeah, it makes sense.”

Dean laughs and leans closer to Castiel, pressing their shoulders together and squeezing his hand again before he asks, “So does that mean we have your blessing?”

“Of course you do,” Sam says sincerely, grinning at Dean before he winks at Castiel.  “I don’t even have to give him the ‘if you hurt my brother’ speech.  He already knows.”


	7. Chapter 7

The perks of telling Sam about their relationship extend much further than sharing a bed.  For the first time, Dean can wrap his arms around Castiel and hold him close while they watch a movie to wind down.  It’s strange at first, made stranger by the fact that Sam keeps looking at them and smiling, but it’s still nice to have Castiel pulled tight to his body somewhere other than his bed.  
  
When Dean discreetly drags Cas off to their bedroom two hours later, he feels as though he’s getting away with something.  The door is barely closed behind them before Dean pushes Castiel back against it.  He reaches up to cup his jaw, the pad of his thumb teasing at the swell of his lower lip as he grins and whispers, “I can’t believe we told Sammy.”  
  
Castiel’s lips feel like home when Dean presses a tender kiss; even more so when he slips his fingers under the edge of Castiel’s shirt in search of skin.  The way Cas’ breath hitches at the coolness of his fingers pushes Dean to kiss him again, more deeply, as he shoves the shirt up and out of the way.  Castiel’s hands, as always, move to mirror Dean’s movements; rucking his t-shirt until they break apart long enough to rid one another of the extraneous fabric.  
  
Their jeans are next to go; shoes and socks long-since abandoned in favor of bare feet.  As buttons go, Castiel’s fingers are clumsy where Dean’s are sure; his impatient whines against Dean’s lips equal parts endearing and arousing.  
  
“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean soothes as he moves to help, “we’ve got all night.”  
  
He backs slowly toward the bed, pulling Castiel along by his open waistband, pressing a kiss with each step.  They pause at the edge to shed the rest of their clothes before crashing to the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, still sharing heated kisses and soft growls of pleasure.  With a slow twist of their bodies, Dean pushes Castiel onto his back, framing his face to kiss him more deeply.  Castiel’s hips arch reflexively, grinding his cock against Dean’s hip as his breath goes shallow and quick.  
  
“Dean,” he murmurs, pulling away just far enough that Dean can focus on his face.  “I want _more_.”  
  
“More of - “ Dean starts, but he’s cut off mid-sentence.  
  
“More of what you did last night.”  Castiel’s cheeks are flushed deep pink, the rise in temperature evident under Dean’s touch as he dips to press another kiss.  Dean smiles against Castiel’s lips and shifts, palming the curve of his ribs and sliding his hand slowly down over taut muscle.  
  
“Yeah?”  Dean lets his fingertips trail across the hollow above Castiel’s hipbone, curls them to smooth the backs over his hip and down his muscular thigh.  When Cas groans and grabs at the back of Dean’s head to pull him down for a kiss, all thoughts of teasing are forgotten.  When Dean finally gets free long enough to take a breath, it’s only to say, “Hang on a second.”  
  
The way Castiel is sucking on Dean’s neck and then his shoulder as he stretches to retrieve the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer makes it hard to concentrate, not that Dean is about to complain.  When he strays back within range, Castiel bites at his jaw.  After untangling himself enough to move Dean drops the lube on the bed and turns his attention to kissing Castiel’s throat.  He wets his lips to suck at the tender skin below Cas’ adam’s apple, dips the tip of his tongue into the hollow between his collarbones.  
  
As Dean shifts against Castiel’s body again, he presses a line of open-mouthed kisses across his chest.  Dean’s fingers tremble when he wraps a loose fist around Castiel’s cock and begins to stroke, bracing himself as he sucks a nipple between his lips and flicks the tip of his tongue against it.  He’s half-expecting the arch of Castiel’s body and the desperate moan that rumbles under his lips.  
  
He continues stroking slowly, twisting his fist lazily around the precome slick head of Castiel’s cock until Cas’ ragged breaths slide into a steady chorus of soft moans and shivery gasps.  Pressing one last kiss to Castiel’s hardened nipple, he slides down, lips trailing over his ribs and to his stomach.  
  
Castiel’s fingers curl against the back of Dean’s head, alternating between light scratches and clenched fingertips as Dean stops to reach for the lube.  For all his arousal, Castiel’s body is soft when Dean’s kisses move down the middle of his stomach and to his hip.  When Dean looks up, Cas is watching; eyes half-closed with pleasure and his lower lip caught between his teeth.  The debauched vision of the former angel is almost enough to make Dean give up on going slow.  
  
“You have to tell me if I hurt you,” Dean says, his voice feeling rough in his throat as he coats his fingers with lube.  Cas nods, still watching Dean’s face even as his legs are being coaxed gently apart.  When Dean presses the tip of one slick finger against Castiel’s hole, he sucks a hard breath and curls his fingers into Dean’s hair.    
  
Dean presses kiss after lingering kiss just inside Castiel’s hipbone, slowly working his finger against the tight pucker of his ass until the tip finally slides in.  Castiel groans and tenses, muscles clenching around the tip of Dean’s finger as he draws a deep breath and holds it.  Dean stops, nuzzling the base of Castiel’s cock, teasing.  
  
“You gotta breathe,” Dean says before he kisses up the underside of the soft-skinned shaft.  “Try to relax.”  
  
Castiel lets the breath out in a slow hiss when Dean reaches the tip of his cock and sucks at the head.  When he finally starts to breathe again, Dean starts to bob slowly up and down, allowing Castiel to slip little by little into his mouth as he does the same thing with his finger.  He pushes gently, twisting to press against the muscles that clench and drag on his skin until Cas is writhing and arching up to his mouth and back down to his hand.  
  
The breathy moans that rattle out of Castiel one after another are all the encouragement Dean needs to keep going.  He presses his finger deeper and pulls it back as his mouth slides wetly on Castiel’s cock.  The hand on the back of Dean’s head guides him unsteadily and he relaxes to let Castiel control the pace as he pulls his finger almost out to press a second beside it.  
  
When he pushes back in, Castiel growls, his free hand scrabbling at the sheet and holding on as his moans become half-voiced words.  The bitterness of his precome tightens Dean’s jaw; he hollows his cheeks and sucks harder, savoring the broken sounds of pleasure that stream unabashedly from his lover’s lips.  Castiel’s ass is tight, muscles clenching to deny Dean’s every drag outward and by the time he has two fingers deep inside, Cas has been reduced to whimpering nonsense and squirming obscenely as he tries to decide between the mouth on his cock or the fingers in his ass.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Castiel moans frantically when Dean crooks his fingers and begins to rub inside him, searching for that sweetest spot.  The tremble of Castiel’s body and the words he saves only for the bedroom spur Dean to bob his head more quickly, his lips going soft where they’re stretched around the shaft.  When he pulls off to catch his breath, Castiel growls and twists his hips.  
  
The movement presses Dean’s fingertips to his prostate and he begins to stroke against it, pressing hard.  Castiel yanks at Dean’s hair, angling his cock with his other hand to push it back into Dean’s mouth as he groans, “There.”  
  
Dean would probably laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful of dick; but as it is, he allows Cas to pull his head up and down while he sucks.  When he moves his fingers again, fucking into the tight clench of Castiel’s ass and dragging his fingers back out more and more quickly, Dean feels him coming apart.  His cock thickens and he pulls Dean off, crying out as Dean’s fingertips hit his sweet spot again and again.    
  
“Oh..  oh, _God_ ,” Castiel says, his voice small and thready around his borrowed words.  The wet splash of come hits Dean’s chin and his cheek as Castiel’s ass clenches and releases round his fingers, his whole body spasming with the heat of orgasm.  Dean’s cock aches from the too much but not enough friction of rubbing against the bed as he tries to keep Castiel in one place.    
  
Cas struggles to get a deep breath as he moans and half-turns from side to side under Dean’s touch.  Dean’s fingers slow, fucking gently in and out while Castiel paws at the back of his head clumsily; he bends to clean the come off Castiel’s stomach, swallowing each drop of thick, earthy liquid like it’s the nectar of the Gods.  When he finally pulls his fingers all the way out, Dean wipes his hand and crawls up his trembling boyfriend’s body.  
  
He kisses Castiel’s throat, slow and lazy, as he struggles to catch his breath.  When he’s regained enough composure to not come all over himself like a teenager if Cas touches him, he stretches out alongside him and leans in for an eagerly returned kiss with a side of surprised squeak from Cas.  
  
“Is that what I taste like?”  Castiel’s shaky hand comes to rest on Dean’s hip, squeezing.  Dean nods and presses another kiss, tongue teasing against the tip of Cas’ until he pulls away and asks, “Is that what you taste like, too?”  
  
“You could find out for yourself,” Dean says coyly, nipping at the swell of Castiel’s bottom lip, “we _do_ have all night.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean never _planned_ to have sex with Castiel; his actual plan had extended no further than their first kiss.  That Cas had sought more from him had been a pleasant surprise.  Maybe the lack of a plan is why no one would be more surprised than Dean that so many weeks of clumsy handjobs and jerking off in the shower has conspired with Castiel’s breathless kisses to lead him to the heat of the moment decision that having sex is _precisely_ what he plans to do.

Dean’s lips move across the stubbled skin of Castiel’s throat with open-mouthed kisses and pauses to nibble as he rolls his hips, dragging his cock through the precome gathered on Cas’ body in long, smooth strokes.  Castiel scratches at Dean’s back even as he arches up to meet each thrust, his body bowed with pleasure and his breath coming in faltering gasps.

“I wanna fuck you, Cas,” Dean murmurs when his kisses reach Castiel’s earlobe.  Even if he could think of a more delicate way to ask, the bonfire that’s taken up residence in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t allow for it.  He presses a kiss to the curve of Cas’ ear and coils, grinding his aching cock harder, his voice barely more than a breathless growl when he continues, “I know how much you like my fingers, fucking is _even better_.”

The low groan that rattles from Castiel’s chest at the thought is like a sucker punch, raising a prickle of sweat across Dean’s shoulders as his stomach tightens.  He scarcely notices he’s holding his breath until he releases it in a quick burst when Castiel finally whimpers a hoarse, “I _want_ that, Dean.”

With the question settled, Dean reaches to the nightstand drawer for the necessary supplies.  He drops the lube and condom to the bed and returns to slow, deep kisses as his hand ghosts down Castiel’s side in an effort to steady himself more than his lover.  Cas, as always, reciprocates eagerly, chapped lips sliding against Dean’s as he slides one hand up to scratch lightly at the base of Dean’s skull.

Dean shifts to the side, his fingers wrapping around Castiel’s cock in a loose fist to stroke while he presses the kisses deeper, tongue tracing over the now-familiar line of his teeth.  Castiel’s body arches sharply and he breaks away from the kiss with a growl of pleasure as his fingers close around Dean’s wrist and tug.  Dean takes the hint, letting his hand stray further down until he can palm and squeeze Castiel’s balls, earning another frantic grab at his wrist for the effort.

Castiel adamantly shoots down Dean’s suggestion that he turn over for the sake of comfort, eyes dark and half-closed with pleasure as his broad chest rises and falls unsteadily with each ragged breath, a refusal that pleases Dean since it means he gets to see Castiel’s flushed face and messy hair while he fucks him.  His hands shake as he reaches for the lube and coats his fingers and Cas, quick learner that he is, shifts to give Dean the room he needs.

It’s a struggle to go slowly; slack and too-wet kisses shared between them as Dean presses one finger slowly into the tight heat of Castiel’s ass.  The way Cas moans and squirms, his sweat-damp skin dragging on Dean’s, doesn’t make it any easier.  Dean bites at his jaw and sucks at the tender flesh of his throat, feeling the vibration of every moan and catch of breath beneath his lips as he takes his time fucking Castiel open with one finger, then two.

Castiel’s hand is on his own cock, palm grinding the head into his stomach in search of friction as Dean fucks two fingers deep into his ass, twisting and spreading until the muscles have loosened enough that he’s certain he can get his cock in.  A shiver goes down Dean’s spine at the thought, tingling all the way to his knees as he bites sharply at Castiel’s shoulder.

When he finally drags his fingers from the tight clench of Cas’ body and reaches for the condom, the dizzying reality of what’s about to happen settles in the middle of Dean’s chest with a nervous flutter.  With a pillow in place under Castiel’s hips and his lithe, tanned body curled loosely, he watches Dean roll the condom onto his cock and slick himself with lube.  He wets his lips as he watches, one hand rubbing lazily up and down the underside of his cock, pressing it to his stomach; the picture of hedonistic bliss.

“ _Jesus_ , Cas,” Dean mutters as he moves into position, stroking his cock slowly.  “You’re killing me.”

Castiel doesn’t get an answer out before Dean starts to press into him.  He draws a shuddering breath, biting his lips together as Dean pushes harder with tiny thrusts, carefully working the head of his cock past the tight clench of muscles.  It seems to take forever to make any progress, but the fact that Castiel’s ass is just as warm and tight as he’d imagined makes it more than worth it.

Slow and careful, bit by bit, Dean’s cock slides into Castiel.  He has to remind Castiel to breathe and relax; his gentle instructions met with eager nods and ever-wider eyes.  When he’s halfway in, Dean thrusts quickly to bury himself in an effort to ease the sting.  Castiel closes his eyes tightly and sucks a hissed breath between clenched teeth before he lets it out in a low moan.

Dean curls forward, his body trembling as his chest comes to rest against Castiel’s and their lips meet in another deep, wet kiss.  He’s still for a long moment, savoring the clench of Castiel’s hole around his aching cock, the heat of Castiel’s body engulfing him.

“You okay?”  Dean whispers against Cas’ lips, not trusting his own voice.  Castiel’s legs wrap naturally around Dean’s hips as he strokes down his back with sweaty palms.  When no answer is forthcoming, Dean raises his head only to see Castiel watching him.  With lazy kisses dropped to the corners of Cas’ mouth and the question repeated twice more, Dean finally coaxes a breathy “yessssss” from his lover.

When he’s satisfied that Castiel is in fact all right, Dean begins to pull out slowly.  Castiel’s fingers dig into his back, clawing as he curls his hips up to follow the movement; when Dean pushes back in he relaxes again.  Dean’s head spins with the pleasure of each slow thrust into Castiel until the tightness of every breath in his chest with each push forward is nearly overwhelming.  Cas digs his heels in, urging him on even as his nails dig and drag almost painfully across the muscles of his shoulder.

With a shuddering breath, Dean gives in and starts to roll his hips more quickly until his body slaps obscenely against Castiel’s and the scent of sex and sweat fills the space between them, accompanied by his own panted breaths and Castiel’s near-constant moans and string of broken, definitely-not-English murmurs.

Dean watches Castiel’s face, the fullness of his kiss bitten lips working on words that look like a prayer as the blush in his cheeks deepens to red that makes his few freckles stand out; the way his dark lashes dip over his barely-still-blue eyes and his hair stands at odd angles.  The vision pulls at something in the pit of Dean’s stomach, twisting until his hips find a rhythm of quick, shallow thrusts with Castiel’s thighs squeezing his hips and puling him deeper until he’s pretty sure he’s going to die from the pleasure.

“Dean,” Castiel gasps, his hand moving between their bodies, fingers grazing Dean’s stomach as he wraps them around his own cock and starts to stroke frantically.  The creative but completely unintelligible nonsense that tumbles out after would probably make Dean laugh if it weren't the hottest thing he’d ever heard.  

The heat that’s built up over weeks of patience wraps itself up Dean’s spine and curls around his windpipe until he struggles to breathe at all.  He closes his eyes, his thrusts erratic and more grinding and rolling his hips than actual fucking as the pleasure breaks in waves from the buzzing itch in the back of his mind.  The release of orgasm is exquisite, his cock thickening in the hot confines of Castiel’s body until he breaks over the edge, panting half-voiced moans as his stomach tightens and his cock jerks.

Castiel’s hand squeezes and releases between their bodies, twisting on the head of his cock just the way Dean does until his body twists and arches and he presses his lips to Dean’s shoulder to stifle a loud moan.  Dean turns his head, capturing Castiel’s lips in a panting kiss as the moan turns into a guttural cry and the heat of come splashes against Dean’s belly.  

The sudden clench of Castiel’s ass around Dean’s spent cock is almost painful as he tries to untangle Cas’ legs from around his hips and pull safely out.  He’s successful at last, but not before Castiel bites his lip so hard it brings tears to his eyes.  When the condom has been safely deposited in the trash and the pillow is gone so Castiel can lie more comfortably, Dean stretches out half on top of him again.

Dean never knows what to say in the aftermath of sex and tonight is no exception.  Castiel’s palms press to his face, trembling as he strokes tenderly over the stubbled skin and pulls Dean in for kiss after affectionate kiss.  Slowly but surely, Dean’s breath comes more easily and his heart slows to a steady thump under his breastbone as he meets the intensity of Castiel’s gaze for a long moment, still searching for something to say that doesn’t sound stupid or corny or cliché.

“I love you,” Castiel whispers as he closes his eyes and pulls Dean’s forehead to rest against his own.

“I know,” Dean replies with a smile as he closes his eyes, too.


End file.
